Harry Potter and the Circle Complete
by R2-Darth2
Summary: AU After coming back from his tour of the world Harry Potter finds his homeland in a state of deceptive peace, dark things lurk in the shadows, Bellatrix Lestrange has escaped from Azkaban and there are rumors of the Dark Lord's imminent return. Honks
1. Full circle

Summary: After coming back from his _tour_ of the _world_ Harry Potter finds his homeland in a state of deceptive peace, dark things lurk in the shadows, Bellatrix Lestrange has escaped from Azkaban and there are rumors of the Dark Lord's imminent return.

Chapter 1: Full circle.

He appeared with a loud crack, stumbling slightly from the long apparation. A Snowy Owl took off from his shoulder with an undignified squawk and flew north. Watching her until he could no longer discern her white and black feathers the man wondered why the bird had never gotten used to the squeezing sensation of apparition, even after having side-alonged with him for nearly a thousand times during their trip.

Looking down he cast his eyes upon the dilapidated hut in front of him. It stood so close to the shore that high waves sometimes splashed into it, making the wood creak from the effort. It was a true testament to its unknown builders that the cabin was still partially standing upright .

He stepped forward, climbing over the numerous rocks that littered this little island with his braided beard swaying in the high wind and knocked on the door, wondering if there was another unlucky child who had been brought to the island in an attempt to keep him from being taken by the other "freaks". The slightest touch however made the door fall inwards. This time the rotten wood protested, cracking in multiple places, breaking like a large sheet of glass. "The hinges on the door had never been fixed after Hagrid had forced the door," he thought, "All the better".

Looking around inside, he saw that the roof had collapsed on one side of the only room in the shack, breaking the bed on which his aunt and uncle had slept during their short stay here. The other side however was still relatively sound. The fireplace was still intact and still as cold as when Vernon had failed to make a fire in it. The moldy couch Dudley had slept on was still there too albeit more moldy than he ever remembered it being.

He walked towards the three square feet of floor in front of the couch where he had met his eleventh birthday and smiled. Here had begun the best part of his life, here he had met the friendly half-giant Hagrid who had introduced him to the wizarding world and his heritage.

He was glad that after being away from Britain for so long he had come here first. A place that held a profound symbolism to him. He had come full circle, after traveling around the world for three years he had come back to the place where everything had started. The place where his life had truly begun. In the hut-on-the-rock, one mile off the Welsh coast, one mile from Godderick's Hallow, his parents' home, where his fear-driven uncle had unknowingly taken him.

Suddenly remembering why he was here he reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out his trusty holly wand. With a single flick the floorboards he had slept on ten years ago dislodged themselves gracefully and were arranged in a neat pile on the other side of the room.

He looked down into the hole he had created,unsurprised at seeing black rocks which he promptly levitated out one by one until he could see the sandy earth beneath. Unwilling to compromise the structural integrity of the shack any further he charmed the rocks to float above the floor. Pocketing his wand he jumped down the hole. After digging a small crevice with his hands he shrugged off his backpack from which he procured an ornate totem pole. It was an inch shorter than his forearm and

slightly too thick to wrap his fingers around it. The wood it was made of had the color of polished charcoal and was littered with animals of his own carving, there was Prongs, Padfoot, Mooney and even Wormtail. The likeness of his own animagus form was carved out at the very top, in three dimensions, standing in a fierce stance he had once observed of this animal had found especially striking.

He remembered fondly how Sirius had laughed at him when he had danced around their campfire in an attempt to appease his totem, how the old dog had grasped his belly, screaming that his father had been a far better dancer than he, how he had finally succeeded in completing the transformation and how they had roamed the Siberian forests for weeks after in their animagus forms, how Sirius had explained that the totem pole had to touch the earth or he would be unable to reverse the transformation by himself and how even the Marauders, the best of friends at the time had never told each other where their totems were hidden.

Only much later he had understood why so few attempted the transformation or perhaps why so few succeeded. It was old magic, capricious and unwieldy, not only did it require the highest knowledge of transfiguration but also the appeasement of your totem creature. And once you had made that pact it would stay forever, share your body and soul, bestowing upon you many of it's qualities, making you a creature not unlike the werewolf. It also held it's dangers, for if the totem pole should be destroyed you would not only lose your ability to synchronize with your animal but also the part of your soul where it had resided, making you possibly insane, something not made easier by the ministry's restriction on animagi and the obligation to keep the poles in a ministry sanctioned place where they could remove them from the ground or destroy them on a whim.

Burying the pole he wasn't afraid that it would rot or be otherwise damaged, the wood had survived a thousands of years underwater already and was practically as hard as iron. He had traded the precious wood for some rocks enchanted with an everlasting but mild lumos charm with some mermen they had met while exploring the bottom of the Baikal lake. He and Sirius had stayed with them for a couple of weeks, learning much about their culture and language. The merpeople there prized any and all light making devices despite their own sensitive eyes, he couldn't blame them, it was dark as hell down there. They were also much more friendly towards wizards who sometimes came down there to trade than towards muggles who they hated with a passion for sinking cars on top of their houses in spring. They had a disturbing custom of trying to drown muggles on every opportunity which was thankfully suspended during Sirius' and his stay there.

The wood was very receptive to magic and there had been no complications when he had placed several powerful enchantments on it after imbuing in with animagus magic. Sirius had been impressed, he himself had used a dried out branch of the Whomping Willow which he had to soak in several dangerous potions to get anything near the same effect. He had even asked to have the leftover chunk for some experimentation but was refused without proper explanation at which Sirius had smirked knowingly, confusing his godchild to this day.

Carefully burying the pole he decided against casting more protective enchantments at the area as those would simply attract unwanted attention and force possible nosy wizards to unravel them. Discretion was the best protection in his mind besides the pole itself was already enchanted to the brim, making him confident that only the likes of Albus Dumbledore and possibly Voldemort could find it, let stand remove it

Climbing out of the hole he canceled the Hover charm and carefully replaced the rocks to their former place, the floorboards soon followed. After walking out the broken door he glanced back inside, and flicked his wand, equally dispersing the dust over all surfaces and after a quick reparo charm that made the door leap back to its former place he turned on his foot and disapparated without a sound, leaving no traces of his presence.


	2. Humble beginnings

Chapter 2: Humble beginnings.

Diagon Alley was as busy as it ever was this time a year. After a few minutes he even had even started missing his former fame, as undeserved as it was, it had been useful to part the crowd which now seemed intent on walking right over him. No one pointed, no one stared and he was pleased with that but after spending the last year of his trip with the shamanic tribes of the north he had lost the ability to be comfortable with so many people around him, they came awfully close, so close he could smell them. Living outdoors for three months had done wonders for his sense of smell, it had also instilled a healthy aversion to gambling with Canadian Hags, who he had lost his wizard's tent to in the last part of his journey. Sirius would have let out a barking laugh at his naivete, Hags always cheat.

He couldn't see a single person he recognized in the crowd and in turn none seemed to recognize him. With a chuckle he thought that even if he'd run into Ron right this minute he wouldn't necessarily be recognized. People usually saw what they expected and he had told no one he was coming back as Hedwig had refused to cross an ocean just as she had refused to fly over the Ural. She insisted mind you that she could if she really wanted to but wouldn't because there was a chance that she wouldn't be able to find him once she got back, that was at least what he had discerned from her screeches and hoots when he'd asked her.

There was also the fact that Sirius had all but forbidden him to shave or cut his hair during his trip, promptly disarming with a shout of "Be a man Harry!" whenever he was about to cast the shaving charm on himself. Instead Sirius had taken all "styling related actions" upon himself and gave him the same shaggy mane he had and a triangular beard, not unlike the one Igor Karkaroff had supported during the Tri Wizard Tournament which he then braided with a multitude of colored beads saying it made him look like a viking. Harry however thought Sirius was still recovering from his ordeal in Azkaban and that the beads made him look like a girl or at least a bearded lady from the circus. There was nothing to do about it however since he had promised to keep braiding the beads back into his beard for at least three months after "the beard's" first appearance in the Daily Prophet on the condition that Sirius would get a temporary job as hairdresser in China so that he could finally live out his dream on someone else.

Wading through the crowd on his way to Ollivander's he wondered if he'd be old and bald before he could actually get rid of the beads because the Daily Prophet would refuse to print such a ridiculous picture.

The bell rang somewhere in the depths of the gloomy shop. Harry stood there, waiting for the wand maker to show up and ending up surprised as the old man came from behind him, entering through a door in the side of the shop which Harry had never noticed before.

"Ah, a customer." The wand maker said chipperly as he walked into the room and paused with a frown when casting his pale eyes upon the newcomer. There was a moment on thence silence when neither said anything before Ollivander suddenly threw his arms out in a gesture that made Harry wonder for a moment if he was about to be hugged and brought them back together in a loud clap.

"Mister Potter," he said "How nice to see you, eleven inches, holly with Phoenix tail feather, quite supple yet very powerful, if I remember correctly. There's no problem with your wand, I hope."

It was Harry's turn to frown, there were actually quite a few things wrong with his wand. It was so travel worn and weather beaten that he wondered sometimes if the poor thing was about to snap despite the unbreakable charm he had placed on it. He hid his worry quickly however, not wanting to upset the eccentric wand maker.

"No, of course not Mister Ollivander," he said quickly, "Your work is as dependable as always. I was however wondering if you could do something with this." At this he fished piece of leftover wood from his backpack and held it up to the shop owner. It was thicker than his totem pole but half as long and raw as the day when he had received it from the mermen.

The old wand maker blinked and took the wood in his hand. Inclining his head slightly he procured a pince-nez with yellow lenses from his front pocket and pinched it to the bridge of his nose, turning the wood around in his hands, examining it intently.

"Bog oak, huh?" he mumbled seemingly ticking off boxes on some mental list Harry didn't understand. "Where did you procure this, Mister Potter?" he asked, suddenly looking up from the end when the wood had been severed by magic.

"In Russia," Harry answered truthfully, "I traded it with some mermen."

Olivander's attention had gone back to the wood long before had had finished speaking, his fingers were tracing the grain of the wood and his eves were locked in a stare, as if the man could see every flaw all the way to the core as if he could already see the wand that could be made from this piece of wood. "Equally traded." the man mumbled under his breath, ticking off more and more boxes as he went, "And what have you done with the other piece, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I do mind." Harry cut off with a tinge of finality in his voice.

"Well then, Mister Potter, I can not buy this from you, I'm afraid." Ollivander said sadly and reached the wood back to Harry, "There is no doubt that this kind of wood is rare and very magical but without knowing it's history my work is very likely to go to waste, making me lose the wood, the core and some of my very valuable time."

Harry frowned for the third time today, civilized society was indeed as taxing on his nerves as he ever remembered it being more so even, now he wasn't so used to it anymore. Surely there was no danger in telling one old man that he was an animagus, but if the ministry ever found out and worse yet he'd have to refuse to surrender his totem into their custody, he would serve a term in Azkaban, something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

"This will stay between us, I hope." The words left his mouth before he could have stopped them, Harry could kick himself right then.

Ollivander smiled coyly, looking all the more like the businessman and handy craftsman he was, a man who had single-handedly crafted sixty percent of all wands used within Britain today and probably more than one century before that. Harry could almost feel the tendrils of Legilimency in his shewed and calculating look even if there were none. The man was certainly capable of it, how else would he be able to match wands so quickly, but he wasn't using it on him, yet.

"Wizard's oath." The old man stzted with a small bow and Harry knew that it were meant words, they were connected now, not like with the Unbreakable vow which would cause death upon any breach of the agreement but still, should the wand maker ever reveal his secret he'd owe him, big. And a favor was always a good thing to have in reserve Harry knew. Harry made a small bow in return, throwing his hands out in a flourish, something he could never stop himself from doing after having undergone the transformation, sealing the deal.

"I've used it to craft a totem." Harry said, hoping to sow as much misunderstanding as he could. If Ollivander knew nothing about animagi he would just assume something, if he knew little he would perhaps think that he'd helped someone else become an animagus.

"Ah, animagus." Ollivander said wistfully while looking at Harry in understanding, destroying his hopes of being misunderstood completely, "How was it?" he asked curiously after there was no doubt that he had understood everything Harry had been trying to hide.

"Quite clumsy actually." Harry said truthfully, "Had to do the ritual three times, though that might have just been me, the transformation itself was no trouble at all and neither were the protective enchantments." he added, deciding to spill his beans completely since Ollivander was on to him anyway.

"Interesting, interesting." the wand maker exclaimed as he moved behind the counter, ticking off more mental boxes and mumbling "that might just work" under his breath as he went "I can give you three Galleons for it." he added after rummaging through his cabinets.

Harry was a bit put down, he'd hoped for a bit more, at least four or five Galleons. Oh, how he wished now that he had gotten a job somewhere along the line instead of burning through what little money there had been left from his heritage, along with his apparently dirt-poor Godfather. He looked at the wandmaker to discern if the man was willing to haggle but once more came up short, the man's face was blank, almost daring him to use Legilimency even though Harry knew it would be probably useless unless he really wanted to turn the man's mind inside out.

"Fine," Harry said, sticking out his hand to seal the deal, seeing Ollivander twitch he continued in the same breath, "Three Galleons, a tube of your best wand polish and the name of the one who is chosen by that wand."

"Wand polish?" Ollivander asked reflexively, "Are you out?"

"Yes." Harry stated, which was true except that he had used Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish

from the Broomstick Servicing Kit Hermione had given him for his thirteenth birthday, something that must not have done any favors to the state of his wand, still, it made for a really good grip.

The wand maker recovered quickly however "I do not make it common practice to reveal the names of my customers, Mister Potter." he whispered indignantly.

"What?" Harry all but shouted, "You told Dumbledore about my wand, he knows, have I less right to kow?"

The old wand maker raised an eyebrow but stayed calm at the outburst. "A misunderstanding on your part I'm sure, I've shown Dumbledore both wands right after they were made, if he recognized the wands and connected the dots... there's not much I can do about that." he said slowly "Though you should know, Mister Potter that recognizing a wand after it has been in use for years is all but impossible, a wand grows with the wizard, it learns with the wizard and from the wizard and sometimes, sometimes it even teaches him. Has your wand not changed since it left this shop with you for the first time, Mister Potter? Have no new carvings appeared on it, runes perhaps, patterns, or has it bent from the simple straight shape it was originally?"

Harry gawked at the wand maker, completely caught off guard, he'd never known that. Quickly he snatched his wand from the inside pocket of his robe and examined it closely. "I'd always thought I had damaged it, scratched..." he said turning his wand between his fingers, trying to look at it from all sides though no matter how he looked at it, it still looked as if his wand was simply covered by a multitude of incongruous scars of varying depth.

"Ah." the old man exclaimed, "May I?"

Harry tentatively gave his wand to the wand maker for examination. Ollivander did all the same things he had done with the wand though he stopped at certain moments, peering at it curiously through his pince-nez. "It seems you are both well underway to becoming what you are supposed to be, though what that will be I can not say." Ollivander said as he grasped the wand by the grip, pointed it at the ceiling and with the sound of a high-caliber rapid-firing firearm released a flock of birds big enough to block out what little light there had been in the shop. "Much more powerful than at the last Weighing." he said cheerfully, while watching the birds scamper for the corners of the shop, some of them no doubt intent on nesting "And much more skilled. You must have learned some interesting things on your travels, interesting things. But I do agree, you do need wand polish."

Leaving the shop with three Galleons and a tube of wand polish in his pocket Harry held the door open for some exited first year student and her mother who was chasing close behind. He promised himself to postpone his next Wand Weighing for another decade or more if he could help it, that man was a bit more trouble than he was worth. Harry had however discovered that Ron was soon to be graduated as an Auror trainee and still exchanging wands every six months, when Olivander commended him for the spellwork on his wand, saying that enchantment of the wand was a trait of skilled wizards. It really made him wonder why Ron didn't do it, since he had to be more than average in charms, being an Auror and all, and why they didn't teach it in Auror training. At which the wandmaker's eyes gleamed mirthfully as he said "Oh, they do teach it but only at the very end."

"That man is definitely more trouble than he's worth if he can bribe the Department of Magical Law Enforcement just to sell more wands." Harry thought.

Author's Note: Storyline is still under construction, suggestions are welcome.


	3. Homecoming

Chapter 3: Homecoming

Standing in front of the gate Harry wondered if he had made the right decision in coming here. He had not seen these people ever since that strange graduation ceremony on top of the Tilting Tower. After wondering for his whole school career why no Seventh year student ever rode the Hogwarts Express back to London during the summer he'd finally found out. There had been one last lesson to learn

After all the other students had departed, the Heads of House led all the Seventh years to the tower that looked out over the Black Lake. Harry had walked there with thirty five other Gryffindors, most of whom he had never even spoken to as they slept in different dormitories. Somewhat confused he had tried to ask Ron, who knew the most about the wizarding world, what was happening. It was in vain however as even Hermione, who must have read Hogwarts a History a thousand times over, had no idea. Professor McGonagall simply smiled when asked. What had been about to happen was an event obscured, even within wizarding society. It was impossible to document it or divulge it in any other way, no way to even know of it, unless you had experienced it yourself, just like the contents of the sorting ceremony.

There was a dead end on the seventh floor where four corridors met. When they arrived there he saw the Heads of House standing at the beginning of each corridor with the fidgeting students behind them. In the dead end stood Professor Dumbledore who smiled benignly and spoke in his usual soft voice that Harry was sure, carried as far away as anyone who he wanted to hear it, stood. "Tonight is your last night at Hogwarts, let's make it a good one, shall we?" he had asked as he had turned around and pressed his hands against the wall, revealing a great set of doors, bigger even than the doors of the Great Hall and completely devoid of the elaborate carvings that were omnipresent in Hogwarts.

With strength no student could have expected from a hundred and fifty year old man, Dumbledore pushed the great doors inwards and stepped outside, walking over the stone bridge that connected the castle and the tower. The Heads of House followed him instantly and so did the students. For once there was no pushing or shoving that sometimes took place as the eager students hurried to lunch. These doors had been wide enough for at least two dozen men to walk side by side.

Harry, who had walked right behind his Head of House noticed how loudly the wind whistled through the battlements while he felt nothing but a pleasant breeze on his skin. Bypassing the round table entirely he walked towards the battlements of the tower and looked over the side. He had to crane his neck more than slightly to see the waves crashing against the cliff below. The tower slanted so much that Harry knew, the only way for it to stand at all were age old enchantments.

He had looked up as someone had called his name and he had seen all the students, seated at the table, Houses mixed. Slitherins were even sitting side by side with Gryffindors yet curiously not looking as if they minded much. Harry walked towards the only empty seat left and found himself seated side by side with Dumbledore and Draco Malfoy. No one spoke while Dumbledore conjured a plain wooden goblet and summoned a bottle of wine from somewhere, though unlike Harry's own summoning charm this bottle appeared from thin air instead of flying all the way. Some students had gasped, but probably not at the magical performance, they expected great things from Dumbledore. Alcohol however had always been a taboo at Hogwarts, the older students were all but frisked for anything that packed more punch than a Butterbeer.

Dumbledore had poured the whole bottle of wine completely into the goblet which was obviously bottomless. Replacing the bottle on the table and pulling out his wand he had severed the skin of his left hand, pouring a few droplets of blood into the goblet. Having carefully sealed the wound and hidden away his wand the ancient wizard had put the goblet to his lips and drunk greedily.

Coming up for air Dumbledore had smiled and wiped away a few purple drops from his long silver beard. He had passed the goblet to Harry saying that it was, "The best vintage I've had in some years." Harry had looked at him with disbelief, but as he averted his eyes he saw that all those sitting at the table had been looking at him with expectation. So he had placed the goblet on the table and shed some of his own blood into it. Afterward he had imitated Dumbledore's long swing and passed the goblet, that was no less full than it was before, to Draco Malfoy who had done the same.

After one full round, food had appeared on the table but no drinks. The goblet had had to be passed around until they had all drunk some of each others blood but was passed for much longer, until the first rays of the sun could be seen behind the mountains. Then the ancient Headmaster had suddenly risen from his seat and proclaimed that the ceremony to be at an end. He swished his wand and at the table there sat exactly one hundred and thirty crows and four professors.

Professor Spout, who sat only five seats to his left, jumped up and hit the table with the flat of her palm, startling Harry, making him jump onto the armrest of his chair and incidentally making him realize that he too was a crow. "What are you waiting for? Fly! You're free!" She shouted over the whistling wind and Harry knew no more.

While some crows had struggled he had risen higher and higher, the air had been calling out to him as only a bird could hear, his blood had burned, he had not passed up a swing from that wooden goblet and each swing had been as long as the first.

The last thing he had heard before disappearing into the clouds was Dumbledore's voice, shouting that help would always be given at Hogwarts to those who asked for it.

It had been some weeks later that he had regained some semblance of consciousness and at least five days more before he could get rid of the bird inside and reverse the transformation. He had found himself in the middle of a magical forest in Denmark, where even the centaurs, who like to act as if they know everything, didn't speak English. They had been however nice enough to point him towards a wizarding settlement where he had found Hedwig, who had followed him and eventually Sirius who had followed Hedwig to bring along Harry's trunk. Harry's Godfather had never really gotten the chance to go on a grand tour of Europe after he had graduated. Fighting the good fight against Voldemort had been too time consuming. Sirius had been thrilled to do so when Harry suggested it. Little did they know how far from anything they knew their tour would actually take them.

And now he was back to the nest he had literally flown away from, back from his spur of the moment trip that had lasted three whole years during which he had not contacted anyone he knew back home. He would have, surely, had Hedwig been a little more cooperative and Sirius a lot less inclined to pull him away for another outrageous adventure. There was little he could do but ask for help from the only person that had ever offered it to him, now he simply had to work up the courage to do so. It was taken out of his hands however.

"Ya waitin' fer' somthin'?" Asked a rugged voice from the other side of the fence, not too kindly. Harry startled, he had always thought as a kid that Hagrid was tall enough to tower over the stone wall that formed one of the barriers between the school and the outside world. The friendly half-Giant, that looked like he was going to snap him in half with his bare hands right now, had shrunk a bit in the time he hadn't seen him however and Harry thought for a moment that he saw the beginnings of gray hair in his bushy beard, though none in his hair.

Seeing that the half-giant was about to ask again, Harry thought it would be best not to test the man and cut him off, "I'd like to meet Professor Dumbledore."he said. When he saw Hagrid's face run through different emotions Harry's heart almost stopped. He had seen anger, confusion and eventually sadness. "No," Harry thought, "Not Dumbledore. What am I going to do?" The mere thought of Dumbledore, the man Harry was about to ask for help, having lost the battle with age during his absence was almost unbearable to Harry.

When Hagrid suddenly pulled out his key-ring, unlocked and threw open the gate with surprising force Harry was suddenly afraid of the light he had seen in the man's eyes. He was about to pull out his wand before being grabbed under the armpits and pulled into the air by Hagrid's outstretched arms. It was strange for Harry to be held as if he was a baby, legs dangling in the air. "How could I have forgotten that Hagrid is strong enough to carry five Thestrals on his back?" he asked himself.

"Harry?" the giant exclaimed as he turned him slightly as if to better see him in the light, "Harry, 's that relly you?" Hagrid asked.

"Aye Hagrid 'tis I" Harry answered, "Now put me down, ye old brute, who acts more like his little brother than like the senior citizen he is." Harry chuckled, remembering how Hagrid had berated Grawp, his "little" half-brother, for grabbing and picking up Hermione when he had asked the trio to take care of Grawp in the case that he would be ushered out of Hogwarts by Umbrige.

Instead of putting him down Hagrid pressed Harry to his chest, Harry could hear Hagrid sobbing. "'Arry, we thought yeh to be dead" Hagrid cried, sobering Harry instantly , "When yeh didn't comeback after a month and Dumbledore couldn't find yeh, we thought, we thought ye'd be dead."

When Harry had finally coaxed the giant man to put him down, he needed a minute of standing on the good earth to restore the blood circulation to his feet. After quite some time of consoling and apologizing to Hagrid they were finally on the way to the castle.

"So how's the family?" Harry asked out of the blue when the uncomfortable silence, caused by the lack of words experienced by either party, had lasted too long for his comfort.

Hagrid let out a sigh of relief when the obligation to begin a conversation was taken from him by Harry and cheerily started relaying his situation. "Well, "the wife" is pregnant, she's due in three months." the half-Giant exclaimed eagerly, though then he frowned, turned to Harry, and continued in a more serious tone. "I'd wanted to ask yeh to be tha' kid's Godfather, but with yeh not being aroun' 'n all, Olympe's already had to ask a friend of hers, nice bloke and a quarter-Giant himself, to take that position. I could probably talk to her about it, if yeh wanted me to, though."

Harry was momentarily stumped, slightly putting Hagrid off. "You married?!" the black haired youth suddenly exclaimed as he jumped up and positioned himself in front of Hagrid, bringing the half-Giant to a halt. "That's great news!" he said while smiling honestly, "I'm so glad for you, friend." Harry finished before giving Hagrid a hug. It was like hugging an old baobab tree, in the sense that his open arms couldn't even encircle half the trunk, much less half of Hagrid's waist.

When Harry finally ended their embrace he continued on to a graver note. "Hagrid, you know me." he said softly to Hagrid, inclining his head with some measure of guilt, "You cant appoint me to be your child's Godfather, I just don't have the steel bone marrow you need when it comes to dealing with Giants." Harry said almost pleadingly.

"You know how much trouble we've had while taking care of Grawp." he stated, "I'm not the kind of person you'd like your child to go to if something happens to you. Besides that, you should take someone wealthy who can take care of your child's needs should worse come for worse, not a broke, unemployed tramp of a wizards, like me."

They both looked at each other and after a fleeting moment when Harry saw Hagrid nod in a grudging understanding, he nodded back. They soon continued on their way, talking loudly and laughing cheerfully. Harry had found it particularly cheering that Hagrid had even found a girlfriend for Grawp. She was a small griantess from the alps, called Gerd, who was just a few inches taller than Grawp, who was very much below the average length for male Giants in his home region. It seemed that she had taken a liking to the small Giant and he to her. Now, since a few weeks back they had a baby-Giant named Neringa. Hagrid had promised Harry to take him over to Grawp's hut in the mountains and introduce him sometime, Harry had gracefully accepted the honor.

Just before they reached the doors of the castle, Harry felt the need to come clean completely, "You're my friend, Hagrid, I hope that if there is ever something you need and that I can provide, you'll tell me. Because to me, all that is mine, is yours and the same is true for your friends, should they be in need of something. Worry not, even without me being your kid's Godfather, I'll do my best to take care of him, should any ill befall you or Olympe. Know well, Hagrid, that I consider a friend of yours to be a friend of mine."

They looked at each other again and Hagrid nodded, he reached out with his meaty palm that resembled a sturdy spade and Harry put his own palm in it. "Ye'r a better friend than I could ever wish fer, Harry." the half-Giant whispered, his eyes damp from the emotion.

"Then name the baby after me if it's a boy" Harry shouted while rushing up the steps, now eager to be inside his old place of learning. "Rubeus Harold." he spoke as if tasting the words with his tongue and smiled, "It sounds great!"was the last thing he had shouted to Hagrid before opening the small door that was embedded within the large gate and disappearing inside.

AN: Next chapter: The meeting with Dumbledore where some more will be revealed about Harry's skills and his adventures with the Hags.


	4. Pleasant meeting

Chapter 4: Pleasant meeting.

Harry didn't miss a beat when he felt the wards test his disposition as he entered the keep. He felt the air quiver as the wards tightened the security around him, not in a hostile manner but ready to act against him should he misbehave, he was sure by now that he wouldn't be able to open any doors in the castle that didn't lead to Dumbledore's office, even toilets. It was a level of caution he would never have expected from the sleepy school he remembered from his time as a student here.

Perhaps the wards were only vigilant around uninvited visitors and completely ignored the students, staff and their guests. It must have been one of the first wards erected by the founders, the ward of trust, if someone who wasn't vouched for by one of the inhabitants of the castle, found his way on the grounds, the headmaster would be informed immediately. Harry was glad that Hagrid had vouched for him by letting him in, otherwise he would have likely still been waiting outside, even if his aura didn't resemble a Dark Wizard's for the moment.

He had learned early on in his journey the difference between Dark and Light. It had seemed a rather trivial contrast to him, back then when he wasn't schooled in such things. Only much later had he learned the dangers of both.

Dark and Light arts are forms of advanced spellcasting really, the likes of which are not normally thought at Hogwarts. All spells typically thought at Hogwarts require a stoic disposition, intent, concentration, and understanding of the spell. The Dark nor Light Arts truly require understanding, it helps but was optional to the third degree. The stoic disposition however is thrown out at the first possible occasion.

The Arts had to be practiced in reckless abandon at any level, they also required something that no creature had an infinite amount of, memories. Just like the Patronus-Charm he had learned from Remus in third year had required his happiest memory and how the Sectumsempra curse, he had used to put Draco Malfoy in St. Mungo's for the last half of his sixth year, had required the memory of an enemy.

Then there was the snag, both Arts were able to bestow great power but at a price. Harry had never been able to replicate that powerful Patronus he had cast to save Sirius and it was not because the memory he had used was no longer fresh on his mind, it was simply because he had already used it.

A happy memory used to fuel the Patronus Charm would lose some of it's power, as that power would be taken by the Dementors. It would take a long time before Harry would feel the same amount of happiness with that memory.

This was always the case with Light Arts, you had to chose what to sacrifice and what to keep. The Light Arts were likely the reason for the splitting of the Founders too. If they had cast a ward based on trust, the trust between them would have waned and the one who was trusted the least or perhaps trusted others the least would have left first. It was also the reason why so many Light wizards liked to to rely heavily on mundane spells that required no sacrifice, as any great feat of light magic would cost them dearly.

The opposite was true for the Dark Arts, a memory used in a Dark spell would only grow in strength and become an obsession. He had spent weeks after cursing Draco, thinking of him as his mortal enemy and looking for ways to finish the job he had started. Something that could not have gone unnoticed by the teachers and had surely contributed to Draco staying away for the rest of that year.

Harry had learned in the European part of Russia, a region curiously split in two as the practitioners of the Arts waged a Cold War against each other, how to renew and gather his energies. Sirius had joined in too when he had learned that the fighters of the "Light Side" (roughly a quarter of the magical population of European Russia) had a mandatory orgy on Fridays to restore magical energies.

Harry himself preferred reliving his memories in a Pensieve and creating fake memories with Occlumency to wading between thousands of wriggling, sweating, naked bodies in search of a suitable partner. It brought perhaps smaller dividends in terms of power as he subconsciously knew that the memories were fake, but it gave him some tools that he wouldn't mind sacrificing as they could make him bipolar if he kept them in his head for too long or had too many.

Also he had noticed that while he had attended the massive orgies he had always spent time with the same girl, a young witch called Anya. Perhaps he just wasn't the type of guy to enjoy multiple partners, pleasing one woman was difficult enough as is, he thought.

Anya worked in the Analytical department, she used Artimacy to calculate probabilities, apparently she was quite skilled, as she sometimes could uncover events that had less then a one point five percent chance of occurring, like her going on a date with him. It had eventually happened and had led Harry to believe that using Artimacy to predict events, while more accurate than Telawneys tea-reading was still a far cry from the accuracy of prediction that smoking some types of magical grass provided.

Harry truly wondered if the greatest Light wizard in Britain, Albus Dumbledore visited orgies once in a while as he stood in front of the Gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the old man's office. He nearly choked at the vision of women screaming, "Not with the beard, please!", no matter what people said, having a beard and a woman at the same time usually required a tricky piece of negotiation, though sometimes it was actually a plus, Harry knew.

The Gargoyle jumped aside almost immediately when Harry had stated his name and purpose. Walking up the stairs he felt the anticipation of meeting his old mentor. The guy who had taught him Occlumency in his seventh year. He remembered their long talks after curfew, as Dumbledore sat behind his desk and he in the visitor's seat and they had simply talked about what was right and what was easy, looking each other in the eyes until Dumbledore could no longer discern his lies from truth and eventually couldn't enter his mind at all when he was on his guard.

"Perhaps we'll get a chance to practice some more, now that I know Legilimency too." Harry thought elatedly as he opened the door into the office and saw Dumbledore standing in the middle, seemingly hurrying to open the door in person. When their eyes met Dumbledore's right hand grasped his robes over his heart and the headmaster stumbled backwards. Harry had no more than a second to force his intent to make the visitor's chair turn around and come closer to Dumbledore, making the old man tumble into the seat instead of on the floor.

There was a silence as Dumbledore sat in the visitor's seat, looking Harry up and down, studying him intently. Unlike many other people Harry knew, Dumbledore's eyes didn't go looking for some obscure thing on his forehead, they went directly for his eyes. Seeing those luminescent, emerald orbs, the old man perked up. The thought that his mother's eyes were as distinctive for him as yellow, hawk-like eyes were for madame Hooch and pale silver ones for Ollivander, made Harry smile inside.

"So it is you." Dumbledore stated, almost hyperventilating, "And I see you've discovered the joys of having a beard, my boy." he added with a chuckle.

Harry smiled at the old man's quip and answered, "Yes, I've noticed it can be helpful while controlling and gathering magical energies." which was true, Harry had always had troubles with directing his intent without a wand. Even something as simple as moving a chair to catch an old man would have been out of his reach before his beard had reached a reasonable length.

Learning to control his intent had been an eye-opening experience. Spells could not be cast without a wand, of course but it didn't mean that plenty of useful things couldn't be done without one, moving things without touching them, controlling temperatures, setting fires, making it rain, finding lost and hidden things, preforming rituals and so much more. All in all he was as well-versed in using magic without a wand as any average House-elf, except perhaps for Dobby who was a fair bit better than the norm but was quite average for an adult wizard really. No matter, he made it up in other fields.

"Ah, yes." Dumbledore said knowingly while he stroked his own long, silver, facial hair, "I always thought it was rather fortunate that Tom had lost his ability to grow one in one of the Dark Rituals he had undergone." he said with a spark of mischief in his eyes, "Perhaps I was wrong in saying that the power the Dark Lord knows not was love..." he trailed off with a smile.

This silly notion made Harry laugh out loud. He finally noticed that any awkwardness he would have expected in this meeting simply wasn't there, it was as if he had never left. Dumbledore was truly a master at putting people at ease, he understood. "I highly doubt that the power the Dark Lord knows not is something as silly as a beard." Harry continued in a graver tone but still unable to wipe his smile off his face, "I have also come to doubt that it can be anything but love."

"You speak with great confidence," Dumbledore in his usual grandfatherly tone, "Has the acquisition of a beard brought you so much success in love?"

Harry snorted at the implication, "Barely," he said, "Few witches dare to go to sea with a bearded warlock, these days."

"Truly?" the old man queried, stroking his silver beard ever more fiercely, "I do remember it to have been somewhat fashionable, back in my days."

The young man chuckled and continued with a tinge of irony in his words, "Yes, but no matter how much we wish those days were back, young witches everywhere still celebrate the fact that they are long gone."

They both laughed at that. Dumbledore seemed to have recovered somewhat from seeing Harry after stating to the media that he was probably dead. The old man went back to his soft and richly decorated chair behind the Headmaster's desk, leaving Harry to replace the visitor's chair to its original position and take a seat as well.

After ironing out a few misunderstandings, such as how Harry had disappeared and why the hell he they hadn't heard from him for such a long time they moved on to lighter topics, such as Ron being stuck in Morocco after the graduation ceremony and Hermione reversing her transformation in the middle of the Vatican. It was only when Harry saw the windows grow dark that he remembered his real reason of being here, securing room and board as a Hogwarts instructor.

He felt soon however as if he was pulling his boat ashore onto a very rocky beach, especially when Dumbledore had drawled hesitantly, "I don't know, Harry.", sounding very much like a whiny child to Harry, one who didn't want to admit something even if he saw no reason not to.

"Why not?" Harry cut in sharply, "I aced Defense, I have experience and I love teaching. What makes me so unqualified?" he asked.

Dumbledore simply sighed, not wanting to verify nor deny any of Harry's claims, instead he stood up wearily and walked towards the window. Harry looked at the old man who leaned heavily against windowsill, trying to understand but somehow falling short. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position was still cursed and freed at the end of each school year, had the position been filled already, Dumbledore would have surely said so instead avoiding the issue so blatantly.

It was completely dark outside now, the Headmaster's office was scarcely lighted except for the fireplace. Since Harry didn't know how to illuminate the chandelier overhead he sought out a cluster of candles through the twilight that had filled the office and glared at them while adding the memory of Dumbledore's childlike drawl that had annoyed him so much, making the intent of lighting the candles and the weak negative aspect of his annoyance blend together into (slightly) Dark Magic. It was sacrilege of the highest order, Dark Magic being preformed in the presence of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Dumbledore himself said nothing however, probably feeling who Harry's annoyance was aimed at, a skilled wizard could do that.

Harry frowned when he saw that the candles he had meant to light with his glare didn't light at all. There was no smoke or any displacement of air, no change of temperature and no other changes Harry could see, it made him want to cover his face in his palms, the failure the cause any effects with magic was the greatest blow to a wizard's pride. Unless,..., he looked over to Dumbledore. The old man was still looking away from him and Harry could only see half of his face, but the half he saw covered by a crooked grin that was unbecoming of a mild mannered elderly person.

"Impressive,"Harry thought, "He counteracted my magic and I didn't feel anything, it's like he cast the Disarming Charm from behind me while I was in the middle of a spell, hadn't noticed and went on trying to complete the spell. Now I just have to figure out if it was a latent enchantment in the office or something Dumbledore set in motion purposefully."

Meanwhile Dumbledore had already turned back around and watched the young man ponder what exactly had been done to him. The old man was glad Harry had decided not to inquire about it as he would have hated to disappoint the boy with an unsatisfactory answer. An old sorcerer needed to keep some secrets after all.

"You're still too young, Harry." Dumbledore said to his favorite student, catching his attention instantly, "Still confusing brute strength with efficiency." he continued with no small amount of affection in his voice.

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise suddenly as his instincts strongly suggested to get away from the old man, classifying him as a threat. Even though Harry had never believed his mentor could harm him he couldn't help but recoil in his seat. He saw all the twinkles in Dumbledore's eyes combine, giving him an eerie look. Just as Harry thought something bad was about to happen, Dumbledore's gaze swept the room and ignited the thousands of candles that his office possessed, topping anything Harry could have done on such short notice and without a memory, like Dumbledore had done.

"Color me impressed," Harry said, clapping a few times for emphasis, "One young, cocky wizard put back in his place. Now we've had our magical demonstrations, are you going to give me the job, or not?"

The Headmaster chuckled and proceeded to pet Fawkes on the left wing. "You can appreciate, I hope the fact that I've been through this before." he said to Harry.

"Before?" Harry questioned confusedly.

"Yes," Dumbledore continued, "A wizard with great potential, not unlike you, who had disappeared right after graduation, also not unlike you, once had asked me for the same job you're asking for now."

"What happened?" The impatience of youth was clearly audible in Harry's voice now.

"I refused," Dumbledore said chipperly, "And that young wizard became known as Lord Voldemort."

"Tom Marvolo Riddle" Harry drawled, remembering the magical diary that had possessed Ginny Weasley and the Spirit that had emerged from it. "I am Lord Voldemort.", those words had been etched into his memory after that encounter.

"You're going to refuse me this." Harry stated in understanding, it had been long in the making but now Dumbledore was about to cast his judgment and it would not be in his favor he felt.

"The position is still cursed," Dumbledore said sighing in regret, it looked as if rejecting Harry was the most difficult thing he had done in a while, "I can not possibly allow you to place yourself in such danger."

"Because of the prophecy?" Harry all but shouted, he had learned about the prophecy in his seventh year, during Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore. "Would you have refused another of my age and skill?" he asked suddenly, seeking to test Headmaster.

"Maybe not."the old man said with his eyes downcast, almost knowing what would come next. It didn't matter really, his office had weathered one storm, it would weather another. It was the pain he had caused Harry that he really felt bad about.

Harry shot up from his seat instantly, grasping the edge of the desk he suddenly felt the need to pick up a handful of parchment rolls and throw them up in the air to add some flair, he abstained this time. "I am not a child to be protected, Albus. It took seven years for you to come clean about the prophecy, I'm an adult now and still you treat me like an infant, is if I'd beak down instantly and start reaching for mother's breast, should you leave me alone for the shortest of moments." he hissed at Dumbledore through his teeth, "Stop it, I am not afraid." he added in the end.

The old man didn't even glance at Harry, he was so obviously trapped in his own private thoughts that the youth almost intervened, he refrained though when Dumbledore finally spoke, "Your lack of fear is perhaps what troubles me the most."

As Fawkes cooed soothingly, Dumbledore turned away from him and returned to his seat, ushering Harry to do the same. As the young man did so he finally spoke again, " These are Dark times, Harry. Muggles are disappearing by the hundred, graves are found disturbed, Bellatrix Lestrange has escaped a few months ago. It is my guess that she has joined up with Peter Pettigrew, who escaped shortly after your graduation and Bartemius Crouch Jr., who has stayed on the run after failing to resurrect Voldemort with your blood during the Tri Wizard Tournament. They are preparing for Voldemorts return."

Harry choked in disbelief, "What are they going to do?" he questioned, "Put together an army of inferi? They should know that no matter what age you are, you can still make fire rain from the skies. Those beasts can't stand it." he said while looking at Dumbledore.

"Oh, I assure you, the ministry is doing its absolute best in halting Dark activities, perhaps they could use some help though." The old man said while looking at Harry is if mentally weighing him. "You know?" he said, "I remember how you expressed the desire to be an Auror, while being a student here, perhaps..."

Harry managed to cut him off quickly with a firm "No." once he figured out where exactly Dumbledore was going. "I'm not going to become an Auror." he affirmed.

"Why not?" the old man asked simply.

"Not that hard really." Harry stated, "Auror trainees don't get paid. And pretending to learn things I already know for three years is beyond me, especially since I'm too broke to even afford a new set of robes."

Harry had foreseen his opponents arguments and had countered them preemptively. He was fairly certain now that Dumbledore would have kept pushing him gently toward the Auror-business unless he revealed that he was broke. It was still possible that the old man would continue by offering him a loan or some weak statement that proper room and board were provided for Auror trainees and he could live there for a while. Harry almost hoped the headmaster would use the latter, he would have fun throwing the fact that fully trained wizards could have free room and board practically everywhere, back in his face. It never came however.

Dumbledore just sat there gaping at him like a fish. His eyes were wide in wonder and shock. "Broke?" he managed to spit out on his second try. "You, you squandered away the great Potter fortune, you young fool?" the old headmaster threw at him, his eyes ablaze with intensity Harry had rarely seen before.

Harry tried to let the storm go on while reclining deeply in his luxurious seat, somewhat like Dumbledore had done earlier but failed. Dumbledore still sat there, looking at him questioningly, his eyes and hair standing more wildly than ever. Harry decided to answer, "Yes"

Harry had never seen Dumbledore cry and he hoped he'd never have to, now however was dangerously close. "How?" the silver haired man sobbed, seemingly much more affected by the huge loss of fortune than Harry, the previous owner of said fortune.

And while it could not be said that Harry Potter was not considering to continue torturing the mild mannered headmaster, his passion for the topic was unquenchable. Had even Voldemort himself asked, Harry would have talked away for hours on end, it was his passion his dream, his ambition.

Unlike what Dumbledore thought however, the Potter fortune had been spent well. Harry and Sirius had haggled mercilessly for every Knut, they had lied and cheated, stolen, bribed, faked evidence and much more, merely to get a better price. And in the end it had been beautiful.

So he said the simplified truth, carefully edited for the sensible ears of the mild mannered headmaster, "I bought some things and then gave half to Sirius as we split up." He paused a bit to add more painful edited truth, "Gambled the rest away." he said, and seeing Dumbledore at the breaking point he finally added, "To Hags."

It would have been recorded in history, had anyone but them and the paintings been in that room as the first time Albus Dumbledore had truly cried since the death of his sister.

Harry thought it was pretty pathetic for such an old man to cry about money, even though said old man was probably one of the few who knew how many millions of Galleons had been in the Potter vault and how impossible it was to spend them in a mere three years. Harry still thought it had been a good investment.

"Headmaster are you going to give me that job?" he asked cheerfully.

What followed was a long negotiation on any and everything wizards would negotiate about.

In the end Harry would be allowed to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, as long as he did Dumbledore a favor by returning a favor to the minister of magic, who had passed it on to the head of Aurors who needed some help with recovering an agent who went incommunicado a week ago and couldn't be easily retrieved by one of theirs because there was apparently a security leak, as evidenced by the capture of the agent in the first place.

"Harsh is the life of an upstart wizard." Harry thought as he went to a room Dumbledore had granted him to retire for the night.

Tomorrow would be a magical day, he knew.


End file.
